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The roses in the window-box
Have tilted to one side,
Everything about this house
Was born to grow and die.

It doesn’t seem a year ago
To this very day,
You said, „I’m sorry, honey,
If I don’t change the pace
I can’t face another day.“

And love lies bleeding in my hand,
It kills me to think of you with another man;
I was playing rock-'n-roll and you were just a fan,
But my guitar couldn’t hold you,
So I split the band;
Love lies bleeding in my hands.

I wonder if those changes
Have left a scar on you,
Like all the burning hoops of fire
That you and I passed through?

You’re a bluebird on a telegraph line,
I hope you’re happy now;
Well, if the wind of change comes down your way, girl,
You’ll make it back somehow.